


Compathy

by coppercaps



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22511887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coppercaps/pseuds/coppercaps
Summary: Hollow, she said. She felt hollow, as if a part of her had been torn away. Filip didn’t dare saying that he felt that way too.
Relationships: Chibs Telford/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Compathy

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after rewatching season 6 episode 8. The way Chibs had Jax’s back and told him to go home to be with Tara had me thinking that maybe he’s found himself in a similar situation before. Also, I could hardly find any fics written from a man’s perspective about dealing with the consequences of miscarriage that aren’t mpreg fics so here’s that. The female partner in this fic isn’t further specified beside her pronouns so you could imagine it to be a character from the show, an own character or a reader insert.
> 
> Also, I decided to go with Filip instead of Chibs in this piece as, to me, it felt more intimate that way.

His calloused thumb gently caressed her soft skin, tracing the shallow ridges on the back of her hand until the texture changed to rough and synthetic. His finger came to a stop on top of a spot where the white material appeared darker, hinting at the blood that had been collected by the watted square beneath.  
Absentmindedly, he swiped over the stain a couple of times, without any pressure, as if the soft brush of his thumb could wipe away the collection of blood drops and with them, the events of the day. A silent sigh escaped him before he leant down to place a gentle kiss on top of the patch, carefully, to not wake her up.  
The shadows underneath her eyes were witness to the rest she desperately needed. The last thing he wanted was to rip her away from it, longing for the numbness of sleep himself as he was denied the serenity necessary to fall into any kind of slumber.

Quietly, Filip moved his hand away from hers to pick up and throw away the crumpled-up tissues before her face, the material still damp from undried tears. They had given her a mild sedative and although he couldn’t get rid of the bitter overtones that action had to him, he was glad that it allowed her to get some sleep after the first outburst of tears and screams had left her exhausted.  
Filip was mildly amazed by how well they both had held up after they got the news. It might have been the shock numbing their emotions, but regardless of what it was, he was glad that they both remained somewhat calm until it was over. Late miscarriage, the doctor had called it. Filip wondered why it was called miscarriage when she had to give birth all the same. Never had he thought about the possibility that she would be giving birth to a dead child when she told him she was pregnant. 

He would never admit it to his brothers, but the way she would be giving birth had, on some days, been occupying his mind more than club business had. Fiona hadn’t involved him in that decision when she had been pregnant. They had never talked about it and as she went into labor, Filip had been knee deep into IRA business. When he finally reached the hospital, Fiona had kicked him straight out of the labor ward to wait for six hours in the waiting room until little Kerrianne had finally come into the world.

This time around, he had been given the option to choose whether he’d want to be there or not. She had even asked for his opinion on where she would be giving birth. A home birth, had the final decision been. Surrounded by all the things that gave both of them comfort and strength, with him by her side, holding her hand and supporting her. The very thought of that had sent shivers down the biker’s spine, in anticipation and anxiety equally.  
Never would he have thought that his little one would end up being born in a cold, bright hospital room, without being given the chance to ever draw a breath. 

He adjusted the blanket around her, covering her shoulders and making sure it was snugly against her skin, and couldn’t help staring at the outline of her belly. Beneath the covers, he knew it was already a little flatter than mere hours before, but still soft and rounded. If one didn’t know, they would still think her pregnant. Instinctively, Filip’s hand reached out to rest there, but he stopped himself mere inches from the covered curve as, in his mind, the words of the doctor echoed; “She lost the baby.”

Once again, the tips of his salt and pepper hair falling into his face were dampened by tears silently running down his cheeks. His grief had been much quieter so far. She had screamed and thrashed, breaking down in every way he thought possible, and he had been there for her, blinking away his own tears as he held her close and tight until all energy left her, the swings of her fist quieted down into weak slaps against his back and her howls ebbed away into hoarse sobs.  
Hollow, she said. She felt hollow, as if a part of her had been torn away. Filip didn’t dare saying that he felt that way too. It was her body that had nurtured and protected their little one for seventeen weeks until, suddenly and without a warning, without an explanation why, it all stopped. It wasn’t his body that went through hours of pain to bring to closure to what had already ended days ago, much too early and without any warning.  
He didn’t feel he had the right to feel hollow and empty, when it hadn’t been him having to physically deal with their loss. When he hadn’t felt the change in his body, hadn’t carried their child the way she had.

Although it wasn’t him who did and had gone through all of that, he was still furious at the universe, at some god there might be, at himself, at the whole fucking world for what had been robbed from them.  
The life that could had been. The doctors hadn’t given them an explanation why this had happened and deep down, Filip felt icy spikes of fear that maybe he could have done something. Maybe he could have prevented this from happening, could have protected his little family.

Feeling all energy suddenly drained from his body, his still hovering hand landed softly on her belly and in that very moment, with the love of his life cradled against his own form and the child he came to adore before he had ever met them gone, he allowed his heart to break.  
A sob, loud and ugly, wrecked through his body and he held on to her a little tighter, desperately seeking for some of the comfort that he tried to provide to her himself.  
Whispered apologies left his lips as he buried his face against her neck, while waves after waves of agony and despair, hopelessness and anger raged through his very soul.

Filip would never blame her. Would never dare to even think that it was her who lost the baby, like the doctor had said. That she had any responsibility in what had happened. From the bottom of his heart, he knew that, if there had been anything that could have been done to prevent that little life from fading, both of them would have done it, without any hesitation. But he knew that she, just as he did, blamed herself for their loss. And he was determined to make sure that, one day, she would realize that it hadn’t been her fault. That she didn’t lose the baby, that it had been taken from her. From them both.

So tomorrow, he would pick up the pieces of himself and be strong again, for the woman he loved.  
To make sure that the arms that needed to support her wouldn’t be weak from crying. The hands that would hold hers wouldn’t shake from anger. The mind that needed to be clear for her wasn’t clouded by despair.  
But right then, in the tiny hospital bed, next to the mother of his rainbow child, Filip Telford allowed himself to break.


End file.
